


We Deserve

by SaunterVaguely



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crowley has feelings and isn't sure what to do with them, Emotional Constipation, Hand Jobs, M/M, my babies are idiots, vague references to past non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-17
Updated: 2013-05-24
Packaged: 2017-12-12 03:00:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/806394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaunterVaguely/pseuds/SaunterVaguely
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It dawns on him eventually that he's an idiot, and that he's been more than a little blindsided. He doesn't know why the realization upsets him; it probably shouldn't. It should have been obvious from the beginning. Apparently it wasn't obvious enough, or he was just deluded and oblivious enough to avoid noticing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fic I've had half-finished for a while, and with all the Crobby feels from the finale, well, I figured it was time to publish it.

 

 

Crowley's certain he should have received some sort of award by now. 

He and Bobby have been what could be generally termed "an item" for nearly six months now, and in that time the demon has stopped any serious efforts to kill the Winchesters or their collection of misfit toys they call allies, reigned in his unruly minions, and overall been on the upswing moralwise. He's trying, he really really is, to be a decent boyfriend. And since the other half of this arrangement is a man who has been, for the majority of his life, a strictly heterosexual man, Crowley has also made some serious alterations in his usual methods of intimacy. Where he would otherwise rush right into the good old physical side of things, he's now taking it slow, letting Bobby get used to the idea of touching and being touched by a man (or even a demon). They've gotten far enough that the hunter will allow Crowley to wrap an arm around his waist, to press a kiss to his cheek or lips, and even to go down on him in the privacy of the bedroom, but Bobby never makes a move to return the affections. That might not be such a problem- Crowley's most certainly been in worse relationships, and he enjoys Bobby's reactions enough to get halfway there without even needing much attention. But the first time he sucked Bobby off, the moment he sat back and undid his trousers to take himself in hand, he looked up to see the human staring down at him with a look of such shock and disdain that he'd stopped. Bobby had turned over on the bed, facing away from him and refusing to meet his eye, and he hasn't tried to draw notice to his own arousal since. 

Basically, Crowley is frustrated and horny as hell and he's getting desperate. His only hope, he thinks at this point, is to get the hunter to fuck him and with luck he'll be able to rub one out against the sheets without being noticed. 

But he's been doing so well, and when he shows up in Singer's auto yard or living room, no matter how unexpected it is or how pissy he is from dealing with morons all day, Bobby will greet him with a grin and an obligatory offer of cheap terrible booze. They'll talk or bicker or just sit in comfortable silence in the den, and then at some point their gazes will lock with some heat behind them and one of them will suggest in a raspy voice that they head to the bedroom and Crowley will be so damned warm and comfortable and he'll think to himself that this will be the time; this will be the moment Bobby will be ready and reach for him. This will be the time that kisses make their way across his skin, gentle and maybe not-so-gentle bites will mark his throat and chest, gun-roughened hands will slide up his thighs and part his legs and touch and touch and touch...

It dawns on him eventually that he's an idiot, and that he's been more than a little blindsided by his attraction to the human. Bobby has needs, and Crowley, like the daft, pathetic thing that he is, has been perfectly willing to fulfill them. What the demon had thought of as the first relationship he's had in centuries is, in fact, a convenient way for Bobby to get his rocks off, and little more. He doesn't know why the realization upsets him; it probably shouldn't. It should have been obvious from the beginning. Apparently it wasn't obvious enough, or he was just deluded and oblivious enough to avoid noticing.

The king of Hell takes a few minutes to be really fucking furious with himself, and then he takes several deep breaths, clamps down on whatever that painful emotion is and stamps it into submission. Once that's done, he composes himself, pops away from his current location (meeting with a group of surly werewolves in a small Californian suburb, hardly his idea of thrilling company) and into the old hunter's front yard. He's scanning the area, considering the best approach, when a voice calls his name and Sam comes trotting toward him from the porch, waving. 

"Hi, Crowley!" The giant human grins at him and greets him with a friendly slap to the shoulder, knocking the smaller man off-balance. "Bobby's inside; I think he's doing dishes. How've you been?"

The king of Hell looks at him, blinking vaguely. Dean and his pet angel are still deeply wary of the demon, shooting him suspicious glares and muttering to each other if he so much as sneezes, but Sam has been a regular ray of sunshine about the whole thing. Crowley was extremely confused and alarmed by the moose's enthusiasm at first, certain it was some kind of demented attempt to lure him into a false sense of security, but Bobby assured him that the kid was just "happy that they were happy". It's still a disconcerting and slightly bewildering experience, especially when Sam's in a particularly friendly or emotional state and feels the need to catch the demon in a hug. Crowley almost feels bad for the boy; he's been awfully supportive and as welcoming as a hunter could be and now it appears it was misplaced.

"Fine," he gets out eventually, slipping out of Sam's reach and taking a few steps toward the house. "But you may want to, er, stay out here for a bit. Maybe go for a drive."

Sam's expression morphs from good-natured to horrified in barely a tenth of a second as the implication dawns on him. "Right," he says, looking like he might be sick (supportive though he may be, he has no desire to walk in on his father figure engaged in any sort of carnal activity). "I'm just gonna- yeah. Uh, yeah." He speed-walks away and Crowley can't help grinning to himself just for a moment before he remembers that he's not actually here to get up to any fun/mentally scarring activities. He stifles a sigh and drags himself up the steps, edging around all the various traps until he's standing in the kitchen, watching Bobby scrub at a dish that seems just as determined to hold onto its stains as he is to remove them. The demon rubs a hand over his face, feeling very tired already, and clears his throat.

"Were you ever going to clue me in? Or were you intending to keep up our little misunderstanding for as long as possible?"

Bobby looks up in surprise, although he doesn't automatically reach for a weapon, which is proof of just how used to the demon's company he is. "What?" He sets the plate down to soak and turns, wiping his hands dry on a towel. "The hell're you talking about?" His sleeves are rolled up, revealing his muscular forearms, and normally that alone would be enough to distract Crowley from his issues (further signs of just how gone he is on this bloody man), but now he's too set on the topic to be deterred.

"You don't want me," Crowley says plainly, stating a fact rather than accusing. 

"I- _what_?"

"Don't want me. Aren't attracted to me, never have been," the demon elaborates. "Were you planning to tell me at some point? I'd imagine not; I'm cheaper than a blowup doll, I suppose."

"Blowup- Jesus, Crowley, where's this comin' from?" Bobby throws the rag down on the table and plants his hands on the counter, face lined with something bordering on anger. 

"Come on, Robert, despite the last few months you should know full well that I'm not an idiot." The shorter man lets out a weary sigh and leans against the wall. "You've had your fun, managed to string me along for a good long while, but enough's enough."

"This is-" The human's gaze drops suddenly in understanding. "This is about you not getting off?"

"Yes, let's just sum it up like that, shall we? Me not getting off. Rather than going into the subject of your complete lack of interest in helping me to do so." Crowley scoffs and cocks his head to one side, bitter and frustrated and thinking that if he'd kept his mouth shut he could be settling into one of the armchairs in the living room right now, comfortable and calm. Too late now. 

Bobby shakes his head, tense. "Crowley, I ain't ever been with a man before; I got no idea what I'm doing! And you, you're so damn good at-" He actually flushes a bit, drops his gaze. "-at everything, and I got no idea, no experience, nothin'!"

"Who _cares_?"

"I care, dammit!"

"Oh, clearly!"

Bobby glares at him, fists balled. "You don't believe me."

"Not hardly," Crowley snorts.

"Fine," Bobby barks, "What do you want me to do, then?"

Crowley falters. "Uh." He wasn't expecting the man to offer anything, was anticipating more doors slamming or guns being fired. "I don't, er..."

Bobby actually chuckles, looking relieved, and lets his hands slip off the counter. "Christ, you're just as nervous as I am."

"Well, why wouldn't I be?!" Crowley snaps back, reddening.

The human squints at him from under the brim of his hat, arms folded across his front. "Crowley, how many lovers have you gone through over the years?"

The demon winces. "I'm not entirely sure that 'lovers' is the best term for-"

"Crowley."

"I don't know! A lot!" He hesitates briefly. "Are we counting only experiences in which I was a voluntary participant or just everything?"

" _Voluntary_ , Crowley, Jesus fuck!" Bobby says with a look of pained alarm.

"Well, then, still probably a lot! But a fair bit less than the original number I'd had in mind," the dark-haired man amends. 

"Crowley..." Bobby's still got that pinched, unhappy look that means he's trying to work out some emotion without being too obvious about it. He takes a step toward the demon, who shuffles back, waving a hand irritably.

"I don't see what that has to do with us, though!"

"It has all kinds of things to do with us!" The human makes an exasperated sound. "I've never touched a guy the way I-" He swallows and continues, voice a little hoarser. "The way I want to touch you."

That catches Crowley by surprise. "But- but that- you were ashamed, after that first time, you- you wouldn't even look at me!"

"You idjit, I was embarrassed! You'd just made me come by brains out like it was nothin', and you were looking up at me all- all- and then you unzipped and I knew I ought to return the favor and I just panicked! And then you left and I figured you were, you know, takin' care of yourself in the bathroom, but then you didn't come back in so I thought that was how you wanted things to go from then on..." Bobby trails off, looking away. "I mean, I wasn't happy about it, but I thought it was just how you are."

"As a demon?" Crowley asks dryly.

"As an ornery bastard," Bobby corrects testily. 

He can't help it; Crowley laughs despite himself, and the hunter's tensed shoulders relax. They lapse into silence for only a moment before the demon bites his lip and shuffles in place, asks slowly, "So... you're not terribly put off by me?"

Bobby shakes his head, taking a step closer. "You're not dumping me?"

Crowley mimics him, inching toward the other man as he shakes his head too. "What do you want to do to me, then? Tell me."

The hunter reaches out and gets a firm grip on the king of Hell's suit, yanks him in close enough that their noses brush as he growls out, "Everything."

Oh.

Well.

Hello, sudden erection.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy birthday to me, you guys get porn!

 

 

 

"How do you want to do this?"

Crowley shrugs, licking his lips nervously. They're still standing there, close enough to share breath, and Bobby's slowly curling and uncurling his fingers in the demon's shirt. "I don't care, really."

The hunter looks skeptical, raising a brow. "Pretty sure you should care. Like I've said, I'm not well-versed in the art of... you know, men. I don't wanna end up fucking it up."

The king of Hell chuckles a little. "There's only a certain amount of wrong it can go; and if it somehow goes worse than that, I'll heal."

Bobby growls again (which is really starting to get to Crowley) and huffs out an angry breath through his nose. "I swear to god, Crowley, if you don't-"

Crowley interrupts, frustrated. "Bobby, you could do anything to me! I don't give a rat's arse how experienced or talented you are; it'll be good because you're _you_!"

The annoyance seems to melt away from the human's expression; he circles an arm around the demon's waist, the other hand cupping his jaw with only the slightest hesitation. "In that case... why don't we just start with this?" He cautiously undoes the first three buttons of Crowley's shirt, fingertips finding the skin underneath. He offers a crooked grin. "I've never seen you without so much as your shirt off."

Crowley returns the grin, nodding. "That's fair." He slides out of the shirt, his jacket and tie, leaving his chest bare. He arches a brow questioningly. "How much d'you want to see, then?"

Bobby's gaze darts from his face down, skittering across the revealed skin. He swallows. "All of you. I want to see everything."

"You sure?"

The hunter nods firmly. "I'm sure. I want you, and I wanna see you and touch you and- just get naked, okay?"

"Yes, sir." Crowley laughs, covering his wariness by shuffling free of his trousers and, after one last confirmatory glance, his briefs. He stands back up, waits for Bobby's reaction.

The man looks like he's either on the verge of a panic attack or suddenly realizing that his own trousers have become too tight. Crowley glances down. Ah. The second thing, then.

Taking a breath, the hunter steps forward again, lays a hand on the demon's naked arm and runs it down, grasping his wrist. "I, uh- so, look, I don't know if I'm up for- the whole experience yet."

"I didn't expect you to be," Crowley shrugs. "To be honest I was expecting you to see my prick and go running for the hills. Or maybe faint."

Bobby glares at him. "Runnin' for the hills, huh?" Before the demon has time for a witty retort, Bobby reaches out and drags his knuckles down the length of his shaft. 

Crowley shudders and leans into the sensation automatically, cock already perking up. The tentative touch becomes a more bold one, a slightly slower rub of rough fingertips over the sensitive skin. Crowley's eyelids flutter.

"Right," Bobby says, voice gone raspy. "I'm pretty sure I can handle this."

"I'd say you're more than welcome to handle _mmmnh_ -" Crowley's remark trails off as the light touches become a firm grip, pumping him in a steady rhythm. When it stop suddenly he makes a very put-out sound, which he normally would have better control over if he weren't so very very frustrated already. 

Bobby leans in and kisses him, deep and distracting while his hands grip Crowley's hips and turn him, maneuvering them onto the sofa so that he's laying on his back, with Crowley nestled between his legs. The hunter is still fully clothed, and the demon can feel the strained fabric of his jeans. "Okay?" Bobby asks carefully.

Crowley nods uncertainly. "Ye-es... But I can't touch you like this."

His confusion gives way to pleasure when that warm grip returns, stroking him with more and more confidence, another hand roaming over the bare expanse of his skin.

"I know," Bobby says, voice low and pleased as he circles a nipple with his thumb and gets a sharp jerk from the king of Hell's hips. "That's the idea. This ain't about me."

"But-"

The hunter shushes his protest, swiping at the head of his cock and making him groan. Crowley's never been the type to get worked up over a simple handjob- Hell, he hasn't had to give one in nearly a century, let alone receive one- but he really wasn't lying when he said that it would be good no matter what; he's already hard and panting for more.

Over his frantic gasps for breath he hears Bobby's low growl thrumming against his ear, a string of throaty sounds that become words when he concentrates: "That's it, that's right Crowley, doin' real good, fuck, just look at you. Look how hard... makin' such pretty noises for me, gonna be so good to you, promise, never gonna stop touchin' you..."

One of Crowley's legs shoots out stiff and desperate, toes curling, knocking a cushion to the ground, and the coffee table rises a few inches off the ground, thuds back down. Bobby ignores it, or doesn't even notice, still whispering rough in the back of his throat, "God, the things I'm gonna do to you. Haven't got experience but I do my _research_ , Crowley, and I know exactly what I want. Gonna take you to bed, properly, kiss you til you're nice and hard for me, kiss you all over, every inch of you all red and marked up and then I'm gonna take you in my mouth, like you do for me. Gonna lick you open-"

Crowley moans brokenly, shuddering and squirming as a blot of precum wells up and rolls down the human's knuckles. Bobby chuckles darkly.

"Like that idea? Me too. Gonna make you come like that, fucking you with my mouth, with my fingers, before I even get inside you for real. And when I do," his voice falters as he draws a breath, grinding relentlessly against the demon's backside like he can't help himself. "When I do, it's gonna be amazing, gonna be perfect, I promise." He kisses behind Crowley's ear, nuzzles his hair. "You look good like this, all that skin that you never let anybody see... Nobody else is gonna see you like this from now on, you hear me? You're all mine, and I'm gonna keep you, gonna make you feel good- gonna make you _come_."

The final word isn't heard so much as felt, a vibration against Crowley's skin, and it shoots its way through the demon, filling his veins with white molten heat and he's writhing and sobbing with it as he obeys, shooting all over himself and Bobby's hand. The hunter's grip fumbles around him for just a moment, gripping again and working him through it even as the grinding against his back becomes quick, urgent thrusting, even as Bobby curses and lets out a familiar sound of satisfaction, rubbing his face into the demon's hair. 

At last, when they've both wrung each other dry and Crowley's belly is growing tacky under Bobby's rough palm, the hunter sighs and sits them up, sliding out from under him and standing. Crowley doesn't look at him just yet- despite everything that's happened since he got here he can't stop seeing the look in the man's eyes that first time.

"Hey."

He glances toward the sound automatically, and sees that Bobby's holding out a hand, offering, a slow, satisfied smile on his face. "C'mon. I'm the passing-out-after-sex type, and I think it's about time you joined me in the bed. Plus, the boys'll be back soon enough and I don't think they'd appreciate seein' us getting cozy on the couch."

Crowley blinks at the human, mostly impressed by the fact that he can still form coherent sentences. He slowly takes Bobby's hand and rises, following him to the bedroom. He makes a grab for his clothes, figuring he should at least throw on some underwear, but Bobby swats the fabric from his hand, grinning at him. The demon is ushered gently along, the door quietly kicked shut behind them, and tugged down onto the bed. The hunter slides in next to him and wraps them both in a thick quilt, spooning up behind him shamelessly. Crowley can feel the worry seeping out of him as the warmth of Bobby's body fills the small space around them. He closes his eyes and lets a breath out, smiling when Bobby's mouth brushes across the back of his neck in a whiskery kiss. 

"We're okay?" The man asks quietly.

Crowley nods sleepily. "We're okay. We'll be okay."

His last thought before drifting off into contented slumber is that while he still feels he deserves that award, Bobby's definitely working his way toward earning one too.


End file.
